After Dad Di:ed, My Brother with Down Syndrome Offered to Walk Me Down the Aisle—But My MIL Objected

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“No revenge speech.”

“Even better.”

“I have an idea.”

He pulled back.

“That sentence scares me.”

“It should.”

That night I barely slept.

By three in the morning, I had decided.

Margaret had been worried Ethan would appear in too many  photographs.

Fine.

I would make sure he appeared in more.

The following morning, I called our wedding  photographer.

“I need another shooter.”

“We already have two.”

“I need a third.”

There was a pause.

“For what?”

“My brother.”

“What do you mean?”

“I want one photographer focused almost entirely on Ethan during the processional.”

She went quiet.

Then I explained.

Not Margaret’s exact words.

I refused to repeat them unnecessarily.

I simply said someone had made me realize how important it was that we document what Ethan was doing.

Everything.

Him getting ready.

Dad’s cufflinks if he wore them.

Waiting at the back of Cedarbrook Chapel.

His hands.

His face.

The moment he offered me his arm.

Every step.

The handshake with Adrian.

The hug.

The moment he sat beside our mother.

“If he counts,” I said, “I want pictures of him counting.”

“If he gets nervous, photograph it.”

“If he laughs, photograph it.”

“If he cries, photograph it.”

“Don’t just photograph me being walked down the aisle.”

“Photograph him walking his sister.”

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